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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26213506">In Turn</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/obidalanetwork_archivist/pseuds/obidalanetwork_archivist'>obidalanetwork_archivist</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Complete, Movie: Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2013-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2013-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:01:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,934</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26213506</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/obidalanetwork_archivist/pseuds/obidalanetwork_archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>To know the truth does not always mean to believe it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Obidala Network</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>In Turn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Note from Nadia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at <a href="https://fanlore.org/wiki/Obidala_Network">Obidala Network</a> and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2020. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/collections/obidalanetwork/profile">Obidala Network’s collection profile</a>.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>PROLOUGE: GHOST SMILES</p><p>Anakin saw everything. Everything they hoped he didn't, everything they did subconsciously without realizing it. Ghost smiles. Whisper touches. Glances overflowing with longing. Want. Need. Desire. It colored everything they did. It surrounded them. He was suffocating in it.</p><p>How could she not know? How could she whisper his name at night, the breath pushed in ecstasy off her lips, while thinking of another? Everything she said was tinged with emotion Anakin knew was not for him.</p><p>Day in and day out, Obi-Wan played the dutiful role. Father. Brother. Friend. Master. How could he pretend, Anakin wondered, that he did not dream of committing a cardinal sin? That he wished to covet his brother's wife, a woman Obi-Wan should love only as a sister?</p><p>How, Anakin wondered, had Obi-Wan, the consummate Jedi who never so much as breathed a word against the Code, never so much as entertained a thought against his Honor, fallen in love with his bride? And when, Anakin wondered, had Padme fallen in love in return?</p><p>When exactly had his entire life become a lie? When did love cease to conquer all and when, exactly, did revenge begin to etch its ugly mark into his thoughts?</p><p>*</p><p>I: FOURTEEN DAYS</p><p>The rain sluiced a across the darkening twilight, wind gusting so fiercely that the driving wetness seemed to be falling horizontally from the east rather than from directly above. Padme Amidala Skywalker had stopped caring about the drenching, almost painful assault of the downpour long ago. She welcomed the harsh, needle-like pricks against her skin, partially wishing the numbness that was now settling into her bones would not be so quick to come.</p><p>She'd felt enough pain in the last two weeks; enough to last several lifetimes. A few more moments wouldn't make much difference either way.</p><p>A subtle shift reminded the former Queen and Senator of the man next to her, and she sighed heavily, pushing her thoughts back to their reality.</p><p>"We should get inside," she said quietly.</p><p>It was possible that the driving rain and gale force winds drowned her words, but Padme was quite sure he'd heard and had just made the conscious choice not to acknowledge. It had been their dance for a time now, alternating the strong and the weak, the rational and the inconsolable.</p><p>This was a time, Padme realized, that she really didn't feel up to being the strong, the rational. Surely the Jedi could just use the Force to take the lead, or better yet, erase the pain in them both. Perhaps turn the galaxy back on its axis to happier times.</p><p>She knew it was unfair to expect more of Obi-Wan than she did of herself. She knew he had loved Anakin as much as she had. She knew he had no fault in the matter, but blamed only himself. Which, in turn, made his grief far more bitter.</p><p>The wind gnawed at her with razor sharp teeth, and again, Padme urged the Jedi. "Obi-Wan, we must take shelter now."</p><p>An added rigidity to her tone and perhaps her hand on his arm propelled the distraught Jedi into motion. She felt him hovering at her back, matching step for step as she trudged across the veranda toward the doors that would lead them inside. She made no move to comfort him, and he made no move toward her, though she knew his tears mingled with the rain that streamed down his face, just as hers did.</p><p>*</p><p>Though the burns were fading and would soon be pinkish-white scars, Obi-Wan still felt pain where they criss-crossed his skin. Standing shirtless at the full-length mirror, he traced their haphazard pattern as he had every night since they were inflicted. If he centered himself and focused, he could convince himself of the truth: Anakin, his Padawan, had exacted the wounds. But to know the truth did not always mean to believe it, and believing it tripped him up every time, no matter how focused he was.</p><p>More often than not, he was unable to clear his mind enough to remember the events as they took place. Clarity and perfect memory only came to him in dreams, with that lucid quality that seemed permanently etched in the subconscious -- the same quality that kept it just out of his grasp when he woke.</p><p>Nothing, he decided, would ever truly erase the memory from his mind, nor would he ever be allowed to grasp it fully, examine and dissect it to somehow edge closer to understanding.</p><p>As she had every night since the wounds were inflicted, Padme joined him at the mirror, her weary eyes reflecting back the same sorrow as before. The same grief Obi-Wan knew would be there until her dying day. Her own fingers traced the jagged burns; slender, soft hands whispering over the skin as though she could somehow make them disappear. Obi-Wan let her trace them, as he always did, because somehow her touch cooled them; lessened the pain if only a modicum.</p><p>It was the only contact they ever had, theirs a grieving that was so separate despite its connection: the loss of a man they had cherished above all else.</p><p>Her fingers lifted away after the last scar was memorized and drifted to the hemline of her tunic. Obi-Wan watched, rapt as she lifted it and ran her palm over the expanse of her belly. It hadn't changed yet, but Obi-Wan knew in a matter of months it would, and no longer would it be flat but swelling with new life.</p><p>Together they toured their last gifts from the one prophesized to bring balance to the Force: he, battle wounds; she, his offspring.</p><p>*</p><p>The weather was appropriate, Padme thought. Since she and Obi-Wan had fled Coruscant and landed on Yavin 5, it had been raining. Hardly a break in the downpour was fine with her; it was as if the heavens themselves grieved her loss.</p><p>Time was her enemy now. She and Obi-Wan were isolated until she gave birth; a fate she feared more than anything -- a fate a mere 8 months away. Every night it rained. Every night she watched it; every night passed more quickly than the last.</p><p>When she did sleep, it was sound. For that, she supposed she should be grateful. The nightmares that plagued Obi-Wan were, she gathered, more than disconcerting. She heard him wake from them every night, sometimes two and three times. She always ached for him -- deep, deep down where her heart was maybe, just a little bit, still strong enough to care for another. Below the layer of granite Anakin had unknowingly put there, a layer that, it seemed, would take more than a lifetime to chisel away.</p><p>But she never went to Obi-Wan when the nightmares consumed him. And they never spoke of it in the light of day.</p><p>They spoke of nothing during the day or night but security. Mostly, it was silent. Each of them trapped in their own private, personal hell.</p><p>What drove her to him on the fourteenth night, what made that night different from any other night, she didn't know. Her heart was still broken. The heavens still cried. Obi-Wan slept, fitfully. She watched him and changed her mind. More hours crept toward daylight. Dawn would bring their fifteenth day on Yavin 5. Fifteen days since her beloved husband chose to walk down a dark path, deserting her, their children, his Master.</p><p>She wanted to hate Anakin. She wanted anything but the constant mourning.</p><p>Obi-Wan slept a little more soundly when she slipped into his room again. Shadows had settled beneath his eyes. Permanent scars of his tragedy, just as those that marked his chest. She touched him in places she hadn't before. His neck. His face. Eyes, cheeks, forehead.</p><p>He felt real beneath her fingertips. Strong. Solid. And it hit her. Obi-Wan would never betray her as Anakin had. Obi-Wan would never betray her children. Obi-Wan was the man Anakin could have been. Anakin had never quite made it. Pride, anger, arrogance got in the way. Anakin always said Obi-Wan was jealous of him, but under the shadows of a drenched night, Padme knew the truth.</p><p>Anakin was jealous of Obi-Wan. Of his conviction. Obi-Wan did not question himself, his path. Obi-Wan was born of the light, and would die of the light. Anakin had chosen the darkness.</p><p>He stirred beneath her touch, blinking heavy eyes against the onslaught of wakefulness.</p><p>"Padme, what is it?"</p><p>Instantly alert, Padme realized. To protect her. Because in his grief, in his anger and self-admonition, Obi-Wan was always, and would always be a Jedi.</p><p>An answer to his question would not have been sufficient; Padme knew not what to say. What words could convey such a startling revelation; such an unchangeable reality? What words would make him understand the admiration she had of him? What could convey his unparalleled stoicism; loyalty that surpassed galaxies and endless time?</p><p>Instead, she shushed him, perhaps whispered to him that nothing was wrong. He settled and took her with him as he lay back. It was the first embrace in their grief. Fourteen days and fourteen nights later -- they finally fell together in comfort. It was like a dam broke, and every tear Padme felt she'd already shed flooded forward. Obi-Wan was characteristically silent, except for the occasional hush of his lips against her ear and the soft rustle of sheets as he sunk his fingers into her hair.</p><p>They lay like that, long after her cries quieted into sniffles, and finally into soft, even breath.</p><p>*</p><p>The sun rose, as it had every morning before and would every morning long after they were gone from the universe. Obi-Wan felt everything change as if change were tangible, as easy to touch and hold as the grieving girl tangled about him.</p><p>She had slept soundly; he had not. In this, nothing at all was different. But Obi-Wan knew it, as he knew himself, that change was looming, imminent. As sure as the sun had risen that morning and would rise again tomorrow.</p><p>A sharp stab of pain coerced his heart into thumping hard against his rib cage. His chest squeezed until he couldn't breathe. He was familiar with this pain, nearly amiable to it. It was grief -- the explicit grief that came with death. Obi-Wan no longer feared death; he'd stared it in the face too many times. No, he did not fear death; he feared continuing in life. This life. His Padawan, gone -- to the Dark Side, as Qui-Gon's Padawan before him. Anakin's young bride devastated and abandoned and facing motherhood completely alone.</p><p>But she's not alone, Padawan. For fourteen days and fourteen nights she was alone, as you were. Last night she came to you and you took her. She is not alone anymore.</p><p>Obi-Wan had heard his Master's voice thousands of times in the past two weeks. He tried to listen, tried to believe his Master really was speaking to him from beyond life; from within the Force. But it was easier to believe what he did now: that he was imagining his beloved Master from inside his own conscience.</p><p>He had to be. Things weren't getting better and surely, if Qui-Gon were guiding him, things would be getting better.</p><p>Maybe they are, Padawan, he heard in his mind. Obi-Wan shifted as best he could with Padme's weight sprawled across him and tried to block out the voice. It hurt too much to hear.</p><p>He'd lost nearly everything. There was one person left that he cared about. Obi-Wan felt a surge of defiance, as corporeal as the inkling of change he'd felt just moments before. He laced his arms around Padme's small body and squeezed her gently. Perhaps Qui-Gon was right. Perhaps things were getting better. Because Obi-Wan would be damned if he let the very last person in the universe that he cherished slip away from him.</p><p>*</p><p>II: IF ONLY</p><p>"Padme."</p><p>The former Queen and Senator saw the Jedi's lips move and knew he had spoken her name, but sounds were muffled, her conscience was blurry and she wasn't exactly sure of the reality of space and time that surrounded her. She pushed out a breath, attempted vainly to regain her bearings.</p><p>"Padme, are you alright?"</p><p>Waking had never been this difficult; her body had never had such a wanton desire to slip back into unconsciousness and stay there. The Jedi surrounded her, even as he struggled to bring them both upright, his hands seemingly everywhere at once and she wondered -- had she dreamt it all?</p><p>Every realization from the night before slammed back into her conscience. She was nearly knocked back from the force of it, and she gasped, reaching out to Obi-Wan, clutching his forearms with her small hands and squeezing -- too tightly.</p><p>She saw the Jedi grimace in pain, felt her nails digging into his skin and looked down to see small dots of crimson where she'd drawn blood.</p><p>"I'm sorry," she breathed, unsure if she really was sorry, or just surprised at her inability to grasp onto anything solid other than the man before her. Still, she released her grip, just slightly, and ran the pads of her fingers over the small wounds.</p><p>"Are you alright?" he asked again, this time sounding clearer, closer; although Padme knew he'd always been this close, nothing had changed except the fuzzy din of her mind was fading fast. "Did you have a nightmare?"</p><p>Padme shook her head. She almost told him no, she didn't have those. He did. But she said nothing, because it looked like he hadn't slept at all, and no sleep meant no nightmares; the only thing good to come of a night without rest. But he had rested, she reminded herself. She'd only gone to him when the night was half over, and realized everything in the space of a small moment in time.</p><p>The answers to all of her questions had been right there, for her to grasp. The whys and the hows and the whats. The only thing not there was what to do now, since time had continued to move and nothing could turn it back. Anakin had made his choices. She had made hers. It was all a huge, colossal mistake and if only Padme had listened to her heart earlier; if only she hadn't acted so impulsively. If only.</p><p>If only, if only.</p><p>All the if onlies in the world weren't going to change what was. She knew that. She knew it as much as she knew her name. She knew it for all the lessons life had taught her, and still, she hated it with a fiery passion.</p><p>People should be allowed an if only, she thought. Maybe a few in their lifetime. Because when mistakes were made, mistakes as enormous as this; well, sometimes there was no righting it. Sometimes there was nothing that could be done but think about the if onlies until things got better or you died. Whichever came first.</p><p>"Padme."</p><p>The Jedi's voice was stern now, laced with worry, and the girl looked at him. She lifted her hand from his arm and touched his face: his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, just as she had the night before. When his mouth opened to speak, confusion etched in his eyes and furrowing his brow, Padme shushed him, placing two fingers over his lips.</p><p>"It was you, Obi-Wan," she told him quietly, allowing her gaze to sink deep into him until the bewilderment left his expression. It was replaced with something she couldn't quite figure -- something akin to fear, which she completely understood.</p><p>"It was you all along," she said, then chuckled a little at the absurdity of the situation. "I was in love with you, all this time, and Anakin knew it. My husband knew it..." a bitter laugh choked her throat again, "...and I had no idea."</p><p>Obi-Wan's eyes widened and he began to shake his head. Whatever he'd expected her to say, it wasn't that. Fear gave way to panic, and fierce denial. No, no, no floated off his lips, in a voice gruff with determination. Padme could only smile. It was uncanny, the serenity she felt now. As if all she needed to do to begin to heal, was begin to understand.</p><p>She took her hand from his face and placed it gently against his shoulder. If she'd had Force powers, she would have tried to calm him; as it was, he was tense, muscles coiled beneath her palm. Still, she pressed.</p><p>"Obi-Wan, it's okay," she said softly, moving closer to him. Her other hand snaked across his belly, curling around his waist. "It doesn't make this your fault. If we have to place blame away from Anakin -- " she leaned back and looked at him pointedly, " -- it should lie with me. I should have been more attuned to what I was feeling." She paused, staring into his eyes. "What I wanted."</p><p>He froze in her arms as if time had stopped. Padme knew it hadn't, because she heard the familiar pitter patter of rain against the roof. She smoothed her fingers over the warm skin of his back.</p><p>"It's not your fault," she said again, softer this time.</p><p>Seconds turned into minutes, silence that would have normally been overwhelming now just calmed Padme further. She watched him processing what she'd said, saw emotions flicker over his face, wondered about the expressiveness of his eyes, even when he was saying nothing at all. Finally he blinked and looked at her.</p><p>"I don't know...?"</p><p>He trailed off, looking helpless and devastated. Padme drew him closer, climbed halfway into his lap and settled herself against him. She held him like that, resting her head in the crook of his neck, lips just barely touching the beating pulse above his collarbone. She felt his breath hitch, felt the bob of the Adam's apple in his throat as he swallowed hard. Over and over and over and she wondered why he was fighting everything so much.</p><p>She was about to ask him when he finally broke, his body heaving before he dipped his head into her neck and let out an anguished cry.</p><p>"He wasn't supposed to know," Obi-Wan said, voice muffled and skewed with emotion. "I wasn't supposed to feel that way and he wasn't supposed to know."</p><p>Padme squeezed her eyes shut and gripped him tighter.</p><p>*</p><p>Deep down, Obi-Wan knew all along the underlying reason for his Padawan's betrayal. Yes, Anakin held an arrogance from an early age, an arrogance that wasn't befitting a Jedi, and a frustration for anything he felt held him back from the epitome of power. That alone could have propelled him to the Dark Side. The death of his mother, the subtle but very real guidance of Palpatine -- everything was there, right there for Anakin to take. All he had to do was choose.</p><p>And the boy had chosen evil.</p><p>Obi-Wan and Padme could live their entire lives convinced that these were the reasons for Anakin's descent. And they could convince others, if there were any others left to convince, that they had simply stood by and watched, falling victim to pride and misguidance and abuse of power.</p><p>But they would be lying to themselves. And both of them knew it. Because Padme was right. Before Anakin betrayed his Master and his wife, his Master and his wife had betrayed him. It wasn't intentional, and it certainly wasn't welcome, but it was there. It was the elephant in the middle of the room, something everybody saw but nobody talked about.</p><p>Knowing something as the truth does not always mean one is ready to believe it as such. Until</p><p>Padme came to him in the night and forced it out in front, Obi-Wan hadn't believed it. But there it was.</p><p>It seemed he had cried for hours. It seemed there shouldn't be a drop of sorrow left inside him when he pulled away from the girl and wiped his eyes. But his heart was still heavy with misery and trepidation and hopelessness, even as she smiled gently at him and reached up to wipe her own eyes.</p><p>"Padme, I'm sorry," he said, and he meant it. It seemed such a small phrase for the disastrous events he felt he had set in motion. Rationally, Obi-Wan knew he could no more control who he loved than Anakin could. He'd thought he'd been doing the right thing by keeping his feelings a secret; and he'd thought he'd done a pretty good job of it. But the heart doesn't lie, and no one had ever accused Obi-Wan of being difficult man to read. His eyes gave him away every time. Padme herself had told him that on more than one occasion.</p><p>Why wouldn't Anakin see what was written in them; very plain for anyone to see who wanted to?</p><p>She was shaking her head, touching him gently here and there, leaving behind a heat that burned worse than the scars that criss-crossed his stomach.</p><p>"Obi-Wan, it's not your fault," she paused and bit her lip, and he knew she was gathering her strength. "I made some bad decisions, I acted impulsively..." she sat up a little straighter. Her voice took on a note of steely determination, a tone Obi-Wan was very familiar with from years of watching Padme as the Queen and the Senator representing Naboo. "And I did love Anakin, very much. That was not a lie."</p><p>The words did not hurt him as he thought they would. It had never hurt, seeing Anakin happy and playful with his bride. Obi-Wan had hurt for himself; devastated by the pull he felt between when he wanted (love) and what he'd chosen (the Order). He longed for the clarity Anakin felt when he'd made decisions from his heart, a trait he'd admired in Qui-Gon as well. Obi-Wan had resigned himself to the fact that he just wasn't built that way; that his duty to the Jedi Order came first and foremost and nothing could convince him otherwise.</p><p>Padme touched him again, this time gently on the cheek, pulling him from his reverie. "I loved Anakin," she repeated, and Obi-Wan nodded simply. "But what I didn't realize was what I loved about you -- things that weren't present in Anakin -- things that I could never have done without." She broke off, letting her hand fall to her lap. She looked at it, as if it was a separate entity from her body, and began speaking once more without raising her head.</p><p>"Fierce loyalty and dedication, not only to the Jedi but to yourself, your calling, your dreams, and above all, to Qui-Gon and Anakin. That's just something I -- " she broke off, smiling even as a sob choked her words. "I love you."</p><p>Obi-Wan felt the ferocity of her words, as if they were a living entity that had punched him in the stomach. He felt the air rush out of his lungs, and had to struggle to get his next breath. Everything and nothing felt real in that instant. Her voice, broken with emotion, would ring in his head for the rest of his days. That he knew if nothing else.</p><p>Before he could respond, she threw herself into his arms, clinging for dear life. She was crying steadily now, he felt the warm wetness of her tears splash onto his shoulder and roll down his back. He held her, grateful for the contact because he had no idea what to say when he did speak; the only thing that felt appropriate felt strangely inappropriate too, and perhaps it was better not to say anything at all.</p><p>He let his hands slide into her hair, stroking it from crown to ends. His other hand traced random circles on her back, feeling it rise and fall as she wept. He lifted the hemline of her tunic and trailed his fingers underneath, against her warm bare skin and felt her shudder. When she pulled back, he released her and lifted his hands to cup her face, using both thumbs to wipe the wetness away from her cheeks. She pulled breath in and pushed it out, and Obi-Wan fell in love with her all over again in that instant.</p><p>Without words, he leaned forward and kissed her, easily and lightly and naturally, as if it was the only thing meant for them to do. And maybe, he thought, it was.</p><p>*</p><p>III: SLIPPING AWAY</p><p>Yavin 5 had two seasons: rainy, and dry heat. Padme remembered feeling comforted in the rain; soothed by the patter of drops that fell against the roof of hers and Obi-Wan's humble dwelling day and night. She'd been disappointed when the rains stopped; further grouchy about the insistent beating sun and ridiculously dry air that now warmed the small cabin to nearly unbearable.</p><p>The months impending her birth were winding down into weeks, and Padme felt the tension coiled through every inch of her body. Watching Obi-Wan in his training, his face set in stern concentration, she didn't feel the usual pull to play with him; make a sudden movement or whisper things inappropriate until he was forced to snap out of his focus and sigh at her in mock exasperation.</p><p>Those playful days, she feared, were rapidly closing in upon them. It was easy to begin to believe the lies, after telling them to each other over and over. But deep down they both knew that was all they were; lies fashioned to make themselves feel better, to enable them to get through each day as they had the last.</p><p>Padme knew things would not work out in the end, no matter how many times Obi-Wan promised her they would. The twins were coming, and once they did, it all would change.</p><p>She jumped at the Jedi's hand on her shoulder, moving smoothly across her back and coming to rest at the tensed muscles of her neck. He rubbed small circles there with two fingers and Padme sighed, dipped her head down and let the tail of hair that hung from her head curtain her face from him.</p><p>"What is it, love?"</p><p>His voice was the same as it had always been: gentle and unassuming, always touched now with a gruffness that she hadn't noticed before Anakin had gone.</p><p>Revealing the thoughts that plagued her would only bring about the same conversation-turned-fight that they'd had a hundred times in the past month. It was getting arduous, and too much was at stake. Too much was always revealed in the aftermath -- more than she could emotionally handle at the moment. Hearing him tell her he loved her, that he'd always love her, brought more pain than joy now. Feeling him hold her and kiss her and cherish her was all too much to bear; too much knowing that one day soon it would all end and her life would be shattered to a million pieces. Again.</p><p>Instead, she just shook her head, pasted a smile on her face and blinked back tears. "Nothing," she told him, aware of the heaviness of her voice, the distress that must be shining in her eyes. "I'm just tired."</p><p>It was easier to lie; and Obi-Wan must have felt the same, for he simply nodded and watched as she stood and carried her weary body into the other room.</p><p>*</p><p>Though the Order of the Jedi was vastly obliterated, Obi-Wan still found comfort in his connection with the Force. He had no use for his training, no real practicality in brandishing his weapon, but still he trained. Partly out of sheer habit -- his body was still young and firm and craved the exercise. Partly out of the need to remain united with the Force; tied to his old Master and his young Padawan and the fallen Jedi he had considered family.</p><p>Training sessions made him feel focused, strong...centered. Padme, on the other hand, made him dizzy and confused and always euphoric. He wasn't sure which was the preferred state of mind.</p><p>In the months that had passed, they had grown closer as friends, companions and lovers. The sheer need for one another that outlined their entire relationship had been enough for now; the situation of seclusion that had been forced upon them was ideal for the pattern they had fallen into.</p><p>As the birth of Anakin's children drew nearer, Obi-Wan felt Padme slipping from him. At times she felt farther than she had when they'd first arrived on Yavin 5. His heart ached to make every desire she had come true, but he knew what she wanted and what the situation called for were two very different things.</p><p>They'd had the discussion at least a dozen times. Each time, Padme was firm. She wanted to have the children and remain on Yavin 5. She wanted to raise them with Obi-Wan and live out the rest of their days in the same peace they had become accustomed to in the past 8 months. Nothing, Obi-Wan knew, would make him more content then to live out her dream. He could even look at her now, swelling belly and flushed cheeks and convince himself that the babies growing inside of her were his.</p><p>But they weren't his; and there was too much danger in the idyllic world they felt so safe in now. He had told her the best course of action for the safety of the children and the both of them. That meant not only the children being separated, but Obi-Wan and Padme as well. So far, Padme had refused to accept it. But it seemed, with each day that passed, she was preparing herself for the split from Obi-Wan and one of her children.</p><p>The Jedi choked down a sob. Time was moving too rapidly and the last shred of happiness he had to cling on to was about to slip away.</p><p>*</p><p>IV: TORN APART</p><p>The rudders of the ship whined, matching the high-pitched cry of the tiny infant girl wriggling in Padme's arms. The former Queen and Senator could commiserate. She wanted to screw her face into a tight pink ball and wail. All she could do was stare at the other half of her heart: the man she loved and her small baby boy in his arms.</p><p>"I will be in contact with you," she heard Obi-Wan say. It sounded hollow and tinny to her ears, and she knew it had nothing to do with the noise of the ship a few yards away. She only nodded, not trusting herself to speak.</p><p>"This is the best thing to do, Padme."</p><p>Now, his voice sounded stronger, more solid in her mind. She still could only stare at him, aware of the fat tears that were threading their way down her cheeks and dripping onto the soft pink cloth wrapped tightly around the baby's body. She knew he was telling her the truth but wanted to challenge him anyway. She couldn't find her voice to say a word.</p><p>When he stepped toward her, still holding her baby boy, she wanted to push him away; to pound his chest and tell him that no, this wasn't the best thing to do, this was the worst possible thing to do.</p><p>But that would be futile as well, and there was only the strength she had to hold her little girl up to her breast. No other movement seemed possible. One of the Jedi's strong arms encircled her and pulled her closer, both babies engulfed between them. Padme choked on a sob. This was her family, the three people she loved most in the world, the three people left who loved her. They were being ripped cruelly apart, everything special to her taken once more.</p><p>It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. No one person should be made to endure this much pain, Padme thought. Obi-Wan had told her months ago, we are never given more than we can handle. At the time, she'd believed him. She'd been cocooned in his arms late at night, exhausted from making love and everything felt right. It was easy to forget the circumstances that had brought them to Yavin 5 in the first place on nights like those; easy to pretend the babies growing inside her were his, and their life was theirs: normal and placid and wonderful.</p><p>Those moments never lasted; nothing good ever lasted, Padme thought bitterly. She clung to Obi-Wan's robes tightly, afraid to let go, afraid to embark on this new journey to Alderaan. Her daughter would be raised as the daughter of Bail Organa. Her son, as the son of Owen &amp; Beru Lars on Tatooine. It was all so wrong in her mind. But Obi-Wan kept telling her it was right. It was safe. It was the only way.</p><p>Padme had stayed up nights trying to think of other ways. She'd come up with a dozen or more plans. All of which involved her remaining with both babies and Obi-Wan. All of which were deemed too hazardous to even contemplate.</p><p>Once, when Anakin's betrayal was fresh in her heart, she'd wished she could hate him. She'd only felt grief and disappointment, never contempt. Hatred seemed too simple an emotion, and simplicity just couldn't be afforded to a situation like theirs.</p><p>But now, she did hate him. Deep inside, in places she rarely thought about and certainly would never admit to, she hated Anakin Skywalker. All of her pain was caused by him; ripping a child from a mother's arms was an unforgivable sin, and Padme could see no other alternative but to hate the man that caused it.</p><p>It seemed too soon for Obi-Wan to release them, but he did, stepping gently away. Padme cried out uselessly, her hand pulling at where she'd clutched his robe. He smiled at her, and stroked first her cheek, then the infant girl's.</p><p>"This isn't goodbye, Padme," he said softly. "I will see you, I promise."</p><p>She could only nod, her entire body numb as he leaned down and placed a soft kiss against her mouth. When he stepped back and nodded to the ship's pilot behind her, everything blurred. Padme felt her throat constrict and she reached out to him again, but he'd stepped even further away. She wanted to rush to him, but her feet stubbornly remained rooted.</p><p>"I love you," she managed to say, her voice sounding foreign even to her own ears. "I love you both."</p><p>Obi-Wan nodded slightly. "We love you, too."</p><p>When the pilot gently took her arm, Padme resisted turning away from Obi-Wan and her newborn son. She felt hollow inside, with the exception of a very large, very foreboding knot in the pit of her stomach. She was terrified. Something inside of her told her that if she turned her back to the Jedi and the baby, she'd never see them again.</p><p>"Miss, we must go now," the pilot told her gently.</p><p>The baby gurgled in her arms. Padme shifted her gently and gazed again at Obi-Wan. He held up her son, giving her one last glance at the boy's perfect little face. Padme found it inside of herself to smile. It faded, however, when Obi-Wan turned away. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest. She wanted to scream out at him -- something was going to happen, something would go wrong with the plan. But she said nothing. The pilot nudged at her again and with a heavy heart, Padme turned and boarded the ship.</p><p>*</p><p>-end-</p>
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